


Until you die

by Propernicethat



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Cannibalism, Character Death, Cum drinking, Dirty conditions, Extremely Dubious Content, Food Issues, Forced Cannibalism, Forced blowjobs, Humilation, M/M, Malnorishment, Necrophilia, Piss, Rape, Self-Mutilation, Shit mention, Starvation, Urine, Urine Drinking, Vomiting, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Propernicethat/pseuds/Propernicethat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Scout, having been kidnapped and starved to death turns to desperate measures to ensure his survival. But is it enough?</p><p>This was a tumblr request but the themes were so dubious I decided to separate it from the others due to the content. Like most of my fics, check the tags before proceeding, extremely fucked up stuff ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until you die

**Author's Note:**

> An Anonymous tumblr request wanting starvation and necrophilia.

**_Day 28_ **

It was dark most of the time, he couldn’t distinguish whether it was daytime or not other than when he reappeared. When his captor opened the door, and he always did after hearing him walk down the twenty two steps into the cellar, light would peek though if it was daytime. 

That tiny bit of light was the only thing the Scout looked forward to in his miserable existence. The Blu team thought him to be dead, when really that man, the Texan had whisked him away. He wasn’t like the other Engineers. He had this deliberate tone to his voice, at first the Scout had mistaken it for short man syndrome, but it really was part of his vocals, he was deep voiced and very pronounced in the way he spoke. He wasn’t at all that menacing to look at and the Scout had trusted him at first. 

When the Engineer had picked him up off the battlefield, taken him off, he thought he was being taken to a Medic. Both his legs were broken, so he couldn’t have gotten back to the Blu base without help, the Texan had been a sight for sore eyes when he appeared. 

He really wasn’t like the other Engineers, new to the team, they were all still adjusting. He had this quiff of hair, tall and rolled back, jet black and shiny like plastic. And despite whether or not it was day or night he always wore these expensive looking aviators, white plastic rimmed and lenses tinted a golden brown. The standard uniform was thrown out the window, replaced with black jeans with wide flares, a Blu shirt with wide open lapels and a huge pointed collar, and a blue suit jacket on top with open sleeves. He didn’t look like the kind of chap who tinkered with machines but he was a natural, he was also a natural at making his captive feel extremely uncomfortable. 

The Scout hadn’t been fed by the man for 28 days, but every day he brought a tray down. Delicious soft cheeses on a plate with smoked, melt in the mouth ham, juicy grapes and a pitcher of ice cold refreshing water. He set this tray across the room on an empty barrel, but you see the boy was chained to the far wall by a collar around his neck. He could see it, smell it, practically taste it on his tongue, but he couldn’t get to it. Occasionally the Engineer would stick his cock in the boy’s mouth, and the Scout, out of desperation would feverishly suck with excitement, knowing he’d get a good mouthful of cum to eat, it did little to sustain him however.

“Nice and thin, you’re gonna’ be, all pretty and slim, that’s how I like ‘em.”

Sunday and thursday was the best days, because he got a big bowl of water. It was stale and warm, but the boy didn’t care, he lapped it up hungrily. The rest of the time he’d taken to eating the skin from around his fingers, and he’d chewed out the entire webbed segment of skin between his thumb and index finger on both hands. Red raw, itchy and painful, the boy sucked on them and licked them. In the beginning he’d hesitated, but whenever he needed to piss he desperately tried to pool it into his hands, his skinny body trembling at the foul sour taste that bit into and stung the cuts in his mouth. He also took to biting and eating his finger and toe nails, he got a good pile of them before he ate them, often cutting and getting stuck in his throat. When it wasn’t toe or finger nails it was hair, pulling out clumps of hair, trying to keep the scalp in tact. The fleshy layers that ripped with the hair from his scalp tasted like heaven to the boy. He’d also taken to scratching and biting at his arms, trying desperately to create scabs to harvest. He cried a lot, he was so frightened and lonely. His skin was pale, and his body trembled, his head always swayed and he struggled to see straight. 

On Wednesdays the Engineer would come down the stairs with the usual plate of food to show the boy, but he also brought a tape measure. He kept record of how much the boy was starving. The Scout whimpered as the cold tape was wrapped around his little wrists, his waist, his body forced up so he could measure his thighs and hips. He always wrote down the boy’s progress and he always talked about how he liked his girls pretty and slim. 

“I’m a man, what are you talking about?”

The boy would shout, squirming in the Texan’s grip, who only treated him rougher, his words falling on deaf ears. The King they called him, because he looked like a bad Elvis impersonator. He shook the boy, he smacked him in the ears and he threatened him. 

“Bitches like you need to learn when to keep their whore mouths shut.”

**_Day 35_ **

The boy cried out loudly, howling and crying, desperate to get to the food, his body ached from lying on that cold concrete ground, sitting in a puddle of his own piss. Shit was thrown off to the side, which piled up next to him, due to the cold, it hardened quickly but the smell was still putrid, it made the boy retch, drooling up bile mixed with his own urine in the process. 

“I got a treat for you today.”

The King appeared in the doorway and he was holding a bone saw. The Scout had a horrible feeling he knew what was about to happen, and he was right. The Engineer pinned the boy’s left leg down, lowering the blade and immediately beginning to saw. The Scout screamed in agony, hands lifted to his face as he thrashed on the floor, desperately trying to pull the leg away, head shaking, mouth hung open, drooling as the Engineer lifted the saw and ripped the ligament from the thin pieces of flesh and muscle that was keeping it joined together. Blood ran down onto the floor, thick and slowly due to the dehydration, all the blood had pooled to his legs and feet. The Texan lowered the limb to the floor, taking out some bandaging. 

“Can’t have my baby girl bleeding out now.”

He said soothingly, beginning to bandage the bloody stump, ending just below the Scout’s knee. Standing he slapped the boy’s thigh, unzipping his pants. As soon as the Scout saw that cock, his mouth opened, tongue hanging out in desperation. 

**_Day 38_ **

The Limb was gone. The boy had picked his own leg to the bone, clean. Each little tangle of flesh, each ligament, muscle, everything. He tried to preserve the meat as best he could, but he was desperate and scared and his jaw and lips ached from chewing the bone. The human flesh caused him to have an extremely upset stomach, he sat in his own runny mess, sobbing, clutching his aching, throbbing stomach. Horrendous cramps shockwaved though him, causing him to retch. The poor condition left him more dehydrated than ever. 

**_Day 45_ **

The Scout was extremely weak now. He lay on his side, tongue hanging out, dry and malnourished. There wasn’t enough water in his system to sweat, he lay there, feverishly hot, skin sticking to the stone ground. There wasn’t even enough for him to produce tears, his soft cries dry and painful on his damaged throat. He knew he didn’t have long left, his vision falling, his breathing slowing, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate. 

By the time the Engineer found him he was stone cold, and boy was he in for a treat. 

Unzipping his pants the King approached, grinning at the sight of the ridged, starved body in front of him. He traced those ribs, pinching the skin, which remained tented up, stroked what remained of the boy’s hair back flat. He opened his eyes, to look at those empty, half rolled visuals. Mouth open, lips puckered and dry. He positioned the boy first in a crude manner, bending him on his knees, thighs spread. He had the boy’s arms flat, elbows bent and cheek to the floor to support the corpse. He took photos, stroking the cold dead skin, kissing it all over before parting his ass cheeks. He touched that hard pucker, breaching the corpses anus and fingering inside it, nice, cold and tight. 

It wasn’t long before he’d slipped his cock in there, and he was hammering away at the lifeless body, yelling out loudly with excitement and pleasure, nothing felt better than this to him. The best part of the starvation was always the reward at the end. The bestial, wild fuck he got from a body that couldn’t protest. He went at the boy until he could no longer last, pulling his cock out and cumming all over the body. The boy’s body simply crumpled to the floor in a heap of tangled, boney limbs. 

The King kept the corpse until it started to rot, they only lasted a good two days or so before he had to put it in the incinerator. Everyone complained about the awful smell and he always said the same thing when they asked what it was.

“Makin’ Bacon.”


End file.
